


Corruption

by Aziraphale7



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman Returns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 06:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17381717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aziraphale7/pseuds/Aziraphale7
Summary: (( Don't mind me getting attached to a character that has like 5 minutes of screentime haha-))Tucker Cobblepot was a mysterious and reserved figure within Gotham city, though also a well respected District Attorney. His job, wealth status and position of (sort of) power led him to be introduced to the corrupt law force of the city. Though he lived his life refusing the corruption that his family had built their legacy upon for generations, eventually as he grew more overwhelmed by what he considers the 'darkness' of Gotham, he begins to fall deeper into it.Though eventually he is swiftly taught that no good deed goes unpunished within Gotham.





	Corruption

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!   
> Just putting a little note here that Tucker Cobblepot as I write him is based entirely on writings I have worked on for over a year now (most if not all will be posted here). I grew oddly attached to the character along with Oswald when watching Batman Returns as a child, and developed a sort of background for him and worked off of that.
> 
> This short in particular is about an injury that he receives that results in him needing a monocle, so just a little warning that violence is present near the end.

Tucker Cobblepot was not known for getting into trouble. Even after his parents’ passing, he remained the reserved gentleman that everyone within Gotham had known him to be. He continued his work dutifully, and attended events just the same, remaining the mysterious man that people seemed to rumor about. Though people held their suspicions. He was a Cobblepot after all. His family’s legacy and wealth had been built upon corruption and unjust deeds for as long as they had resided within Gotham. Yet some also believed he to be some sort of saviour to the Cobblepot name, doing good simply for the sake of it. 

Both groups were not particularly correct. Tucker often kept his hands clean and stuck to his life as a District Attorney yet there were moments where he would hit an all time low of his life...and he would turn to the underground of the city to heal what aled him. Whether it be intense forms of gambling, theft or even corrupt deals, Tucker eventually would turn to it all. The deals mostly consisted of cases he worked. Often corrupt cops would approach him with such deals, trying to bribe and waeger their way out of whatever ill spot they had gotten themselves into. Most days, Tucker couldn’t be bothered, persecuting them as he would any other. Though on occasion he would give in if they held something valuable for him in return. They had to be a bit more creative than usual, after all he already had a wealth that nearly matched that of the Wayne family so the typical bribery could not get past his tough justice driven heart. 

Most often he would be overrun with guilt afterwards, yet never enough to back out of such deals. The successful D.A of Gotham City was beginning to become well known throughout the underground, yet he never worried of anyone spreading such information of his deeds. He held enough power to put them away if they so much as spoke his name. It was empowering, yet he always ended up guilt ridden in the end. He wanted to change the city somehow and yet here he was, falling into the cycle that everyone around him had. It was as if Gotham was cursed, plagued with such necessities and crime. 

This particular case had clung to his mind. 

It ate away at his being like a toxin, his mind overrun with guilt. He was practically drowning in it. He did not sleep the day prior to the hearing, not even a few moments of closing his eyes. He was wired with guilt, a sense of dread sinking into his chest with every moment that he thought about it. He would never forget the look upon that officer’s face as he went against the deal they had made prior. Perhaps his morals had uprisen, drowning out all corruption he held within him for that mere moment. Something within him made him ill at the thought of going through with it this time. Not even the piercing icy glare from the male across the room whom was on trial could stop him. Officer Daughtry. He couldn’t forget the name, and it rang through his mind as he slowly rose to his feet to give the final testament. 

Daughtry was found guilty and charged. It was Gotham’s way of warning, as they had limited officers as was. If they threw every corrupt one into prison, they wouldn’t have a police force. God knows they needed everyone they had. 

Tucker had occasions where he would walk home rather than be escorted. It was a test of fate perhaps, or just plain stupidity. He blew out smoke from his cigarette as he walked through the night. He had thought the cool air would clear his mind and chill the nerves that constantly shook his mind and body. He flicked the cigarette, dropping ash to the pavement silently. Gotham was always eerily silent at night, though he knew very well why that was now. It was not because the city was asleep, quite the contrary. Everyone was awake, moving silently through the night to get what they wanted with a certain force. He would see many of those incidents when he returned to work the next day. 

Though almost as if on cue, a force clutched onto him suddenly, tugging him backwards. His cigarette flew free from his grasp, falling to the pavement below, the only remaining sign that he had been there. 

His tailcoat swished, nearly being torn off of him by the force of multiple sets of hands seizing his arms and torso. Tucker had opened his mouth to call out (Though he knew it was particularly useless) but before he could manage a yell or scream, another force smacked into his head, knocking the man out swiftly. Tucker fell limp in the arms of his captors, and they silently drug him away further into the night. 

 

It was unclear how much time had passed when he awoke. The cold splash of water atop his face and torso had knocked him free of his previous unconscious state. Tucker gasped, instantly and instinctively attempting to move out of harm’s way. Though he could not. Tucker’s dark gaze flickered to look around him, finding his hands to be tied securely behind his back. His heart began to pound in his chest as dread washed over him once more. There was a certain degree of panic that clawed at him from inside. What was happening? Where was he? 

He attempted to squirm his way forward. It was a bit more difficult than he imagined when he came to discover that his ankles were also tightly tied together. This certainly looked like someone was planning to toss him aside, throw him into the river. It was the most common solution to enemies with the city. Just tie them up and throw them off a bridge or the pier. Tucker squirmed once more, trying to slither away from the spot he had awoken as though it would help somehow. 

He was stopped by the force of someone’s foot meeting his chest. The breath left his lungs at the sudden action, causing more panic to bubble up within him. Tucker wheezed, gasping for air momentarily underneath the weight of someone’s boot. Laughter sounded, though the attorney could hardly hear any of it. Whatever traumas he had gained on the way here had caused his mind to be blurry, his hearing an echo of his surroundings. Everything rang in his mind, digging and engraving itself into his memory. 

“Wha..What do you want?” Tucker coughed out, finally regaining his breath. The silence that followed was deafening to him. The dripping of water from his face to the hardwood floor underneath him becoming the only sound. Each moment ticked by and his panic steadily increased. If they were going to kill him why didn’t they just do it already! A sound similar to a weak hiss slipped past his lips at the thought. “We are simply here to teach you a little lesson Cobblepot.” A man’s voice sounded, echoing within his mind. “Perhaps after this encounter you will learn not to go back on your deals.” Another voice sounded, this one ringing with an odd sense of familiarity. 

Tucker felt someone grasp onto the collar of his shirt, his bowtie resting uncomfortably against his throat. His dark eyes gazed up seemingly fearlessly at the man who held onto him. Though internally, his panic increased at the sight. The man’s blood ran cold as he was now face to face with the officer from his last trial. “You think you could just snatch up your rewards and go against us? Never have to deal with us again?” Daughtry was enraged, practically boiling with anger before him, his grip tightening with each passing moment. Every instinct told him to fight back, to writhe free of the officer’s grasp yet Tucker remained eerily still. He simply stared up at him helplessly, not saying a word. 

There was an odd sense of courage that always seemed to wash over people in such situations. Most often it got them killed, yet something always seemed to rise up within the victims of such acts. It hit Tucker steadily, rising up within him with each moment that passed. An anger towards Daughtry and the situation he was in mingled with it. His fingers twitched, prodding at the rope that was beginning to cut into his flesh. The pain, the burning sensation, the anger all of it writhed underneath his skin, building up more and more. 

Yet he was helpless. Two other men that Tucker did not recognize stepped forward, clutching tightly onto his shoulders as if to hold him in place. Daughtry’s hands released him and for a moment he turned his back. Tucker’s lips drew into a sneer and he struggled against the men, though it was useless. He was tangled in a mess that he certainly had never seen coming. 

He froze once more as Daughtry faced them once more, holding a familiar white jug. One of Daughtry’s large hands clasped onto Tucker’s face tightly, fingers latched underneath his jaw painfully with a force that he feared may break his bones. The officer said nothing, simply leaned forward to examine the district attorney’s features, as if debating what he was going to do exactly. 

The pain hadn’t settled immediately. Though it was perhaps simply that his brain could not process this much pain at first. The liquid burned, clinging to the tissue of his eye like some sort of venom. The liquid mingled with tears, rolling down his left cheek as he writhed in pain. He remained held in place, convulsing as he attempted to deal with the pain that they were inflicting upon him. Tucker screamed, though he could not hear himself, his senses were far too focused on the injury his eye was currently sustaining. The scent of the liquid burned his nostrils as it was so strong and so close. The smell wasn’t hard to recognize, the chemical a common factor in many criminal activities within Gotham, as well as common household items. Bleach. 

After a moment or two, Tucker was released once more, falling against the hardwood floor roughly. Now free of his restraint, the man squirmed, crying out in pain as the burning seemed to spread. Daughtry spoke once more but Tucker paid little attention to him, too caught up within his own pain. Though the sudden sound of the three men hurrying away gave him hope. The blurred image of a young man greeted him, though Tucker eventually, once more, lost consciousness.


End file.
